


Hush, Hush, Whisper Who Dares

by catwalksalone



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Comment Fic, First Time, M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2009-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwalksalone/pseuds/catwalksalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rodney loses his hearing, Radek is right there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush, Hush, Whisper Who Dares

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **oxoniensis**' porn battle, January, 2008. Prompt word: silence.

It's the silence that's killing him. Of all the trials and tribulations the Pegasus galaxy has thrown Rodney's way, it's this, the unexpected and unexplained deafness that shuts out everything, even the sound of his own voice, that frightens him the most.

He tries to talk but can't monitor his own voice and the craning of 'too quiet' and the winces of 'too loud' defeat him. And if Rodney can't talk and he can't pretend to listen then he's not sure what he can do.

They try, of course, they all try. They're an international expedition so sign language is ruled out as too confusing. Radek draws stick figures and increasingly ornate diagrams, Sheppard types, two-fingered and furiously, Teyla attempts to communicate through touch and Ronon ... Ronon blinks and looks gruff--nothing new there.

It's no good. Rodney can't help but think of all the times he's wanted to drown out the constant rattle and hum to concentrate on the work required of a super-genius but now, huddled in front of his laptop he realises he hates this, hates being so apart, hates not being able to pick up threads of conversations and then rip them apart as easy as breathing. They're all making errors, he knows. Endless, life-endangering mistakes that they're still going to expect him to fix even though he's losing his grasp of what exactly is going on.

He looks up and blinks, confused. Where the hell is everyone? Five minutes ago the lab was full and ... his eyes flick down to the laptop clock ... okay, more like five hours but they should _tell_ him when they leave. What if he'd needed Kavanagh for ... scratch that--he has no intentions of ever needing Kavanagh--Simpson then. What if he'd needed someone, _anyone_? It's not like he can radio to find out where the hell they are. He's going to have to institute a new rule--tell the helpless, deaf guy where you're going. Yes, even to the john. Rodney seethes and doesn't listen to the panic that tells him that he could be abandoned and he'd never even know.

There's a touch on Rodney's shoulder and he whirls around. It's Radek, tired and concerned, and there's something about the wild disarray of his hair that makes Rodney suddenly want to cry. This is the point where he'll usually go off into some diatribe about the incompetence of the entire world when measured against the super-efficiency of his planet-sized brain as a mechanism for avoiding the mess of feelings, but that isn't an option any more.

Radek furrows his brows, picks up his post-it pad from where it now hangs around his neck, fishes a pen out from behind his ear and starts to draw. He's discarded three attempts by the time it dawns on Rodney that Radek is wearing post-its round his neck. That Radek is here. That through this whole, hellish time he can't think of a single moment except in his quarters when Radek hasn't been on hand, never obtrusive, just _there_, steady and watchful. And, just like that, Rodney's world tilts on its axis.

Radek doesn't protest as Rodney grabs his hand and fairly drags him along to his quarters. Not that it would matter if he did; Rodney won't hear anyway. The doors shut behind them and Radek is picking up his pad again, pen in hand, but Rodney steps in close, takes them away, lifting the cord over Radek's head, fingers brushing the back of his neck and in the silence that surrounds him Rodney can feel his heart beating hard, fast, hard in his chest.

And then Rodney closes his eyes and there's nothing in the world now, just blackness and silence and then the quiet press of lips against his own, soft and sure. He could be kissing anyone, but he's not, he's kissing Radek and Rodney thumbs the rough stubbled jaw, slides his hand around into the hair that curls at the back of Radek's neck, splays his other hand across Radek's firm back. He runs his tongue over Radek's lip and is rewarded with a moan that he feels through his fingers, a tingling vibration that goes straight to Rodney's groin. God, how had he never noticed that before?

He kisses harder, one thumb resting lightly against Radek's throat, one hand cupping the outline of Radek's hard cock and pressing gently. Radek moans again and says something: Rodney feels Radek's lips move against his and the stop-start vibration in his fingers. He thinks he groans back and it's a downhill slide from there and before he knows it Radek's cock is in Rodney's hand and Rodney is jerking him hard and fast with his fingers on Radek's lips, lips on Radek's throat feeling the pleasure that's rushing through him. It's exhilarating; Rodney could come just from this. Radek mutters, mutters, mutters and it doesn't matter that Rodney doesn't understand a word that he's saying, still he knows what it means and when Radek comes over his hand, Rodney presses his lips harder into Radek's neck and lets Radek's long moan become his own.

Later, Rodney rests his cheek against Radek's chest and feels his heart beating strong and sure. For a while, at least, he is safe.

* * *


End file.
